Ham
by DestinyandChickens
Summary: The detective and his blogger have known each other for almost a year now, and both of them are beginning to feel a change in how they see each other. Tonight the pair find childish entertainment in pranking Donovan and the two of them find themselves laughing like never before but beginning to realise the importance of their friendship and question where things are going...
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone! This is my first fic in AGES so I really hope you enjoy. It's a bit strange and is inspired by something me and a friend once did to a teacher once, so forgive me if you don't find it as funny as I did (I'm so cool). I'd really appreciate feedback as well so please enjoy...**

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Sherlock looked down in hope to hide his crimson face, but the shaking shoulders of his companion just opened the floodgates to another wave of giggles. He tried to hide behind his lab equipment but Donovan was eyeing the pair with her usual prudish suspicion; this time however she also looked in distrustful shock as she saw the usually cold man on the brink of tears like a young boy, frolicking with his best friend.

"Stop laughing or she'll know we're up to something" John said through labored breaths as he elbowed Sherlock playfully.

"You're the one shaking like you're having a fit. Anyway it was your idea to throw it" he replied shakily as he bumped his shoulder against John's.

"Mine?!" John scoffed. "You started it if you remember. I just... turned it into a competition..." Both men snorted with laughter and fell back as they sniggered uncontrollably. John doubled over and buried his head in his arms, banging his fist on the table and Sherlock clutched his laughter-induced, aching torso.

After they recovered, the two men huddled together and looked under that desk into the tinfoil package that rested on Sherlock's lap.

"How much of the stuff have we got left?" whispered John as he gently leaned on Sherlock who liked the close proximity of their bodies.

"A few slices still. Something tells me they crammed it in to compensate for the taste"

"Honestly, if Lestrade ever as an incentive, says he'll provide us with food from the station canteen again, remind me to politely decline. I mean, is ham _meant_ to be grey?" he said as he lifted a slice and grimaced.

"I don't eat whilst working anyway, but this is repulsive. In fact, I dare say that I have seen a better complexion on some of the people in the Morgue." Sherlock grinned at John, biting his lip and waiting for his half-hearted attempt to scold him but inevitably failing because he knew Sherlock better than anyone ever had or would.

"_Sherlock_" John grinned, his pupils subconsciously dilating as he looked up at his lips and wondered on how he had come to tame this wild cat into purring for him. He bumped against his shoulder again and Sherlock noted how this had become habitual between them, for when words seemed to fail their need for expression. Their stare lingered for a moment longer before John broke the eye-contact and continued, "So, do we dare?"

"Well there's no going back now," purred Sherlock as he tried to latch back onto the intimate moment that has just passed. He looked at his friend's eyes, frustrated – although he did not know why - that John did not look back into his. "Who's turn is it now?" Sherlock continued after clearing his throat and head.

"Yours, I think" he looked up with a cheeky grin at Sherlock and waited for his response. Sherlock felt his cheek gently heat and without thinking, grabbed a slither of ham, checked to make sure the officers were looking the other way and threw the ham into the handbag lying open on the other desk. Sherlock chuckled, proud of his aim and looked to John for approval. John grinned and leant against Sherlock whispering "nice one", eagerly wanting the younger man to know how much he enjoyed his company.

"Oi freak," squawked Donovan. "You done with those results yet?" She stood there with a hand on her hip, Anderson sneering at them from behind.

"They'll be ready shortly, sergeant, although I hardly see how this is relevant to you, seen as your presence here isn't actually necessary." Sherlock huffed at her lack of knowledge on basic chemistry and the waiting time it took for the chemicals to react. Donovan turned back to talking to the team of police officers in the corner of the room, who were waiting on Sherlock's test results, which were the crucial evidence for their current case. Sherlock hated them being in his work place but Lestrade had congregated them around in his usually cheerful and bumbling manor.

"God, I thought she'd caught us then" said John solemnly. He looked up at Sherlock's eyes, who was now fiddling with the petri-dish he was moving under his telescope, and saw that tinge of hurt, burning deep beneath the blue. He of course tried to brush it off and keep his usual cool persona, but John knew better and longed to return that beautiful smile from moments before.

"Right. My turn." John grabbed a slice swiftly, surprising Sherlock with his stern face "let's teach the cow not to call my Sher-" He corrected quickly "friend, a freak." Sherlock stared down at the doctor with bemused shock, but could not hold back an overwhelming feeling, flutter through him as he bit his lip to hold back another grin. ""my Sherlock?" was that what he was about to call me?" he thought.

John threw the ham with force but it did not land completely inside... The strip hung half-in-half-out on the zip, so that it sat in the crack, waiting to be found.

"Shit," said John covering his mouth and lowering his head "no, no, no..." Sherlock almost fell off his chair, cackling with laughter and grabbed John's sleeve to pull him closer. The officers looked over but did not question it, as they were used to Sherlock's queer behavior since the union between the two nearly a year before.

John grabbed Sherlock's sleeve back and rested his chin on the detective's shoulder, looking away from the offending meat staring at the couple from afar; he felt conflicted about this move - it felt comforting but the two were awkward with this physical contact, which neither knew if it were appropriate. Sherlock hovered for a moment, corner of mouth twitching, preparing for his next move. It was vital he should maintain the light air of tonight's fun and handle the delicate situation between the growing friendship with caution. Alas, if there was one thing that the detective felt unable to un-riddle, it was the intricacies of human emotions and more specifically, the ways of relations.

He slapped the doctor jokingly on the back and regretted it instantly. Stupid. _Stupid_. He wanted the doctor to know... to know... what? What was it that he was trying to get the other man to know? He wanted John to notice him and to like him but there was something else. John of course, not knowing the conflicting thoughts dancing through Sherlock's mind, continued as he felt that _that,_ was Sherlock's way of breaking the gesture away. "Oh god, she's going to see that isn't she?" groaned John, straightening up and putting distance between them again.

"There is a strong possibility I'm afraid" Sherlock cleared his throat, smiled at the doctor and was pleased when it was returned. John laughed and shook his head and both men relaxed, realizing the stupidity of their awkwardness. They had being more attentive to one another. So what? They were good friends and flat mates, it was no big deal. Yet both felt an unexplainable sadness that the two must be so distant.

"Okay. So shall we say that you win?"

"_Yep_. I think that's fair to say," he prolonged his words, nodding and relishing in the fact that an opportunity was open for him to get things back on track. "For a man of the army, I quite frankly, am appalled by your aim" He smirked and elbowed his companion again playfully, giving him a mischievous grin, looking down at his lips and licking his own absentmindedly.

"Oh shut up" he looked up into the detective's eyes and rolled his tongue around in his mouth flirtatiously. Sherlock felt something inside, motivating him to play with his kitten more.

"So what's the plan, _Captain_?" he saw John's eyes widen a fraction at this new term of address, which pleased and intrigued the detective greatly. But at that moment the machine next to Sherlock, beeped, causing the officers at the other end of the room to look up. The detective stood up and looked down at his screen. "Calcium phosphate. This means it's Davidson."

Lestrade walked over to stand by Sherlock "What was that?" he asked with his usual overdramatic facial expressions. "Seems like Davidson is our culprit. Although if you had listened to my analysis earlier, we wouldn't have had to do this experiment" Sherlock moaned. "Yeah, alright, alright. I get it. But sadly going and arresting someone on the words of someone who isn't even an officer, doesn't look good on paper." Sherlock smiled, raised an eyebrow and John could practically hear the words "that has never stopped you before" running through his head.

"The little shit. I honestly thought that it was McClarren. He even cried when I interviewed him, the little-" the sergeant rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Right you lot, down to Downall street, its Davidson after all." Lestrade called to the officers and he clapped his hands.

John suddenly panicked as he saw Donovan walking over to the bench where her handbag lay. He kicked Sherlock's foot which jolted him to attention. The two stood side by side in silence, glaring at the ham as she got closer and closer to it. John looked in absolute horror knowing that in seconds, a woman who already despised the pair, was about the discover two sandwiches worth of grey ham, sticking to the contents of her bag. The two looked at each other and covered their mouth to stop the nervous laughter from escaping their lips.

"C'mon guys. What's up with you two? We've got a case to close" Said Lestrade, who was now too filled with adrenaline to notice where the pair's attention was. Donovan grabbed the handles of her bad and swung it over her shoulder without even bothering to zip it up. Lestrade strode towards the door leaving the two to turn to each other and bounce on the spot, flapping their hands in excitement and giggling like a group a girls who had just found out that one was getting engaged.

John slapped his hand around Sherlock's back into a one-armed hug which was reciprocated and the two of them walked out the room with their arms casually wrapped around each other - which felt right. When they exited the building, their arms dropped and the detective turned up his coat collar and hailed a cab for the both, who preferred that mode of transport to the police cars.

John smirked at Sherlock who sneered and rolled his eyes light-heartedly as he knew the doctor was mocking his "mysterious" turning up of the coat. "Right so what's the plan?" John asked.

"Arrest, Davidson, comply with formalities of writing accounts... and then run before Donovan decides to send another one of her delightful texts to Anderson; and I'm guessing her phone might have butter seeping into the buttons by now and therefore I don't want to be anywhere near her when she finds out." Both man laughed again and climbed into the taxi.

"Ah well, she had it coming. But yes, that plan sounds very good"

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It took less than an hour for the culprit to be rounded up and taken down to the station where Lestrade whistled through the halls, making coffee and handing out donuts in celebration of "his" success on the case. The detective and his blogger made themselves scarce when they noticed Donovan walking towards her bag, and hailed a taxi back to their flat.

John yawned and slumped in his seat, rubbing his eyes and waiting for Sherlock to be seated next to him. "That wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be. What would you give it?"

"For the case itself, about a two. But as for the night, well, I don't think I've ever actually laughed that hard before." He looked down at his companion with a warm, open face and felt a heat wash over him like a sense of pride and belonging; as if John himself was a living representation of Sherlock's happiness.

"Never?" He looked at his friend with concern but couldn't help feel special. He didn't know much about his friends past, but judging on how he had seen others treat him, he could believe what Sherlock just said.

"Never." He lowered his head smiling solemnly. "Honestly you underestimate the value of your friendship far too much, my dear Watson." John looked at the man and couldn't hold back his happiness. The two men sat next to one another in comfortable silence, smiling internally and beaming outwards.

"Well, as long as you want me, I'll ways be here to try and make you laugh like that. I don't think I could ever get bored of your smile." Sherlock's hand twitched as he had an urge to run his thumb over his companion's hand. Instead he scooted marginally closer and the two bodies met as they leaned against each other feeling drowsy but content.

"Dinner?"

"Starving"

"Good, because you're paying"

John scoffed "And why is that?"

"Compensation for your appalling throw earlier" the two of them raised their eyebrows at each other before Sherlock continued "Anyway, the gentleman always pays."

John blushed and looked out of the window, nibbling his lips, watching the night time city lights. "Alright, fair deal. As long as you promise not to spend the entire meal deducing all the other customers."

"My attention will be on you the entire night if you promise to not throw your dinner around" both men laughed in unison and leaned against each other further.

"Deal"

"Oh, and one last thing. In reference to your throw again... five points from Hufflepuff" he sniggered.

"Oh shut up. Do not start that again. Just you wait till we get home."

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**Thank you for reading (if you made it this far)! As you can probably tell, if I continued with this story, John and Sherlock are eventually gonna get it oooon. Awww yeaaah. Did I do good? Want to read more about the growing friendship? Please comment xxxxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for all the kind reviews I received! Here is part 2 of Ham, I hope you enjoy it, even though it's a bit more serious than part 1. Instead of adding new chapters to this one, I'll be posting a series of short stories in future, that are all part of this Johnlock saga/storyline, just in case you want to follow (wink wink.) :)**

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John and Sherlock arrived back on Baker street late that evening, feeling exhausted but tranquil. Their walk from the restaurant was much like the rest of the day, in that they had toyed with each other by pushing one another off the pavement merrily, and blushing whenever their hands touched a fraction. Even as they approached the door, the two of them were still laughing as freely as they had been since earlier that day. John unlocked the door and Sherlock leaned against the frame of it, looking at his companion's face with adoration.

"Thank you for tonight" Sherlock could see that John was slightly surprised by his sudden affectionate remark.

"It was my pleasure." The door opened and both men went in and crept upstairs, trying hard not to disturb Mrs. Hudson on their way.

"You go up and get ready for bed and I'll make us drinks" John spun round on the spot, mouth slightly open inquisitively, to face Sherlock, who was heading towards the kitchen.

"You're being very nice tonight. Should I be worried?" he joked. Sherlock turned to face him and leaned his back against the wall, looking at John with peaceful eyes and a smile that pulled up one corner of his perfect mouth. The doctor looked at his friends face and felt lost at the strange look Sherlock was giving him; the detective looked slumberous, but his heavy eyelids didn't hide the penetrating look he was giving John.

"No more than usual." Hummed Sherlock. John turned after grinning at his partner and descended the stairs to his own room.

When John came back down again, Sherlock had changed into his own pajamas, and was stirring the drinks in the kitchen. John turned the main light off and replaced it with the lamp beside the sofa, and then lit the fireplace. He sat beside it, warming himself and grabbed his novel - which was placed next to the fire from the night before - and began to read whilst Sherlock bumbled about.

"Here you go" Sherlock placed the hot chocolate beside John, slightly startling him from the book he was engrossed in.

"Thank you"

"No problem." The detective sat parallel to his blogger, his chin on his knees and watching his friend quietly. John slurped his drink - which was the only noise except for the crackle of the fire - and looked into the small, thoughtful eyes of his flat mate. The two of them kept on looking, both perplexed by what they saw and unsure as to what the other perceived of them.

John wanted to edge closer, but his judgment thought against it. He didn't want to discomfort his friend by being too familiar with him, and now his mind was beginning to make him think that all these peculiar looks and playful touches, were all just blown out of proportion. This was Sherlock. His friend. He knew the man. Well. Sherlock didn't flirt. And even if he did, why would John care? But despite this, although Sherlock often said he didn't have sentiment, John knew different and thought he was witnessing it now. He just didn't know to what extent it went.

The two of them sat until nearly all their drink was gone, gazing at each other in the glowing light of the fire. That was one of the beautiful aspects of their relationship - both of them felt comfortable enough in each others presence, to be able to communicate without words, and fully understand each others need for it.

"You've got some on your face." Sherlock wiped at his chin but missed.

"Gone?" He asked.

"No, not quite." He wiped again and John put down his mug.

"Oh, come here you." He pulled Sherlock's arm who looked alarmed slightly, and stumbled forward to be seated so that his face was inches from Johns. The doctor suddenly felt very conscious of his move, but his mind was washed when he felt Sherlock's sweet breath on his face. He placed his four fingers under his chin, cupping his face and wiped the smudge of froth from above his top lip. Sherlock closed his eyes and frowned. He gulped hard and tried to remain focused but his eyes seemed to fog and loose focus. He blinked repeatedly and felt his cheeks redden when he saw how close their faces where.

"T-thanks" Sherlock breathed. John smiled, avoiding his eyes, now feeling very awkward about his actions but somehow unable to move his hand. The detective darted his eyes around the doctor's face, trying to deduce anything he could, but failing. His heart was pounding which made him feel uncomfortable, like he wanted to dart away, but something about the situation was like a fix to an addiction he had been craving, without being aware of it.

John wet his lips, looking sheepishly back up into Sherlock's eyes, which were looking distracted as if he were trying to solve a taxing riddle in that funny head of his.

"Goodnight, John." The detective stood up abruptly and walked towards his room leaving John to sit alone and reflect on the day, and how it had come to end. He sighed and gulped the last of his hot chocolate, then picked up his novel and went to bed.

He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the sound of rain pattering against the window and felt regretful at his actions tonight. He struggled with the growing sensation towards Sherlock and tried to battle it back, but he couldn't help feel empty at the thought that the man he cared so much for, might not feel the same. And as the soldier fell asleep, his mind fabricated scenarios in which the detective had not run away...

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**Ominous ...**


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